


Peach-y

by fishie_scribbles



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Anal Sex, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dominant Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Excessive Drinking, Felching, M/M, Masturbation, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova is a Little Shit, Rimming, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Tension, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishie_scribbles/pseuds/fishie_scribbles
Summary: Hired by Mr di Genova, a rising Californian politician, Joe is expected to keep his only son, Nicky, safe from all harm. At first it seems to be a rather easy job: Nicky is a quiet and reserved student who spends most of his day working on his Master's degree.However, only a few weeks into his assignment, Joe begins noticing something weird: at regular intervals, Nicky shows up for breakfast with make-up staining his face, glitter in his hair, and sometimes is so tired he spends the entire morning napping.It doesn't take long for him to figure out that the brat sneaks out at night to go partying, and, well... someone really has to make him understand that rules are meant to be followed, right?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 21
Kudos: 151
Collections: D/s JoeNicky Event





	Peach-y

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I really want to thank AsukaX, who "listened" to my bullshit regarding this story and the absolutely idiotic problematics that came with it and somehow managed to understand my whining and give me advice.
> 
> Second, this story was not beta-ed, so... I think there shouldn't be too many errors, but if you notice any, let me know in the comments!
> 
> And third, in this fic there is a scene in which Joe smokes and drinks. I am perfectly aware that both of those activities are haram, but neither him nor Nicky are presented as being religious in this story.

Nicky di Genova is the worst kind of brat there is, the worst kind of brat Joe Al-Kaysani could have ever encountered: the smart kind, the kind you’d never expect to give you problems, the kind that hides their true nature behind a shining smile and a _seemingly_ complacent attitude, and then, when you’re least expecting it… _boom_! They revealed themselves for what they actually were and you’re screwed for good.

When Joe had picked up that job for the di Genova family, he hadn’t thought too much of the smirks his colleagues at the agency had thrown in his direction: the task at hand seemed to be easy enough, and he had _wrongfully_ guessed that everybody else was only jealous of him for having been able to land such a sweet position only within days after his previous assignment had ended (for the past months, he had been the personal body guard of the daughter of a couple of extremely wealthy Hollywood producers, and had recently gotten married to a guy who seemed to be really good for her, switching to his security team and therefore not needing Joe’s presence in her life anymore).

Mister di Genova, a rising politician in the state of California, had hired him to keep his only son safe, and had offered to pay him three times the wage he would’ve normally asked under the condition that he moved into their mansion.

Considering that Mister di Genova’s son was twenty-three, only three years younger than Joe, and he had never read his name on one of those horrible gossip rags stacked at the grocery store, he had thought it would’ve been an easy enough job. Added with the fact that Mister di Genova had described his Nicky as being a conscious student deep into the throes of his master’s degree, Joe had been ready to throw out of the window what his boss called the ‘three MSs of being a bodyguard’ (making sure you never left the person you were asked to protect alone, making sure said person didn’t OD if allowed to go at parties, and making sure they didn’t make fool of themselves and acted appropriately at public events).

It had almost seemed too good to be true, and what had happened after had been proof that, well… yeah, it _was_ too good to be true.

:i:

It was a Sunday morning, when Joe moved into the mansion. Hailing his duffle bag of clothes onto one shoulder, he was already sweating under the first lights of day, swearing off the Californian summer heat and his dumb, _dumb_ decision to wear an all-black outfit and leather boots. Maybe he should have shaved his head too, because although he liked his hair, it was almost impossible to properly function with it constantly raising his head’s temperature.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait much, for Mister di Genova in person to open the tall and unclimbable gate that locked his property away from the rest of the world. The man, in his early fifties and with a head of perfectly coiffed greying hair, offered him a broad smile and shook his hand with enthusiasm, and if he noticed that his palm was sweaty because of the head, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Joe, right?” he asked, teeth so white they shined in the sun.

Joe nodded, adjusting the position of his bag on his shoulder slightly, muscles pulling in the most annoying way. “Yes, Mister di Genova,” he checked the watch strapped around his wrist and then gave the man an apologetic look, “I realize only now that I might be a little early, though…”

“Oh, nonsense! It’s better to be early than late, especially with _this_ kind of job!”

Inside the gate, the mansion stood atop of a hill, surrounded by a green and perfectly manicured garden, with a rectangular pool in the front whose lapping water made Joe feel even hotter and sweatier. The two stories of the house were almost completely covered by climbing ivy, so thick and verdant it took him a moment to see that there was a wooden trellis supporting it and peeking from the leaves.

They followed the cobblestone path, which drew a grey line from the gate to the front steps, and then divided into two other branches, one that lead to what seemed to be the garage, and the other that went to the left of the house, disappearing behind its corner.

“Of course, we’ll give you a copy of the key of each one of the cars we own,” Mister di Genova said, gesticulating in broad gestures as they took the left branch of the path. “Nicky usually doesn’t leave the house if not to go to the library to study with his friends, and I expect you to drive him _always_ and never leave him alone.”

Joe scrunched up his nose: he knew how to do his job, but at the same time it didn’t feel right to always breathe on that poor guy’s neck, even when he was trying to study. “What if he asks me to give him some space?”

With a proud look on his face, Mister di Genova fished his phone from the pocket of his khaki trousers and tapped on the screen before showing him a map with a bright orange dot in the middle. “Nicky’s phone is constantly tracked, and we always know where he is. We’ll get the app installed on yours too, so that you can leave the place if he asks you to, but can check on where he is.” He locked the phone and put it away. “Of course, he doesn’t know about it, and I expect you to maintain the secret.”

An unexpected weight filled his chest: he was used to the crazy ideas of rich parents, but constantly tracking their kids was something he _loathed_ , especially if said thing was done against their knowledge. He promised himself that, even once he got access to the app, he would’ve never used it. Well… that was until Nicky went missing, but even in that case, he highly doubted possible captors would’ve allowed him to keep his phone.

They turned the corner that gave onto the backyard, a place completely different from the front: there, the grass grew tall enough to reach Joe’s ankles, and there were so many trees the entirety of the lawn with a cool, wonderful shade that had the green smell of leaves, and bushes of yew and juniper grew all around the base of the fence wall and the raised veranda.

“And that’s my Nicky.”

And there Nicky was, sitting atop a marble picnic table, in a splotch of golden light that had managed to find its way through the branches, curved on top of a book. Although he was wearing button down shirt that hanged from his shoulders and a pair of soft looking slacks, he was not wearing any shoes, and Joe could see that the sole of one of his feet and his toes were stained green.

At the sound of his father’s voice, Nicky raised his head from the book and turned to look at them, and in the moment their eyes met, Joe felt his heartbeats accelerate in his chest. Nicky was _beautiful_ , in a completely unexpected and unconventional way; his features were striking, but gave the impression of being _barely_ in balance with each other, as if his aquiline nose and the delicate curve of his cheekbones shouldn’t have been working together but, for some reason, managed to do so. The light tan that colored his skin brought out his eyes, big and of a color that stood between light blue and green, and the pink of his plush lips. When Nicky smiled, his gaze lightening up, the desire of taking his face between his hands and kissing him as hard as he could made his lips and fingers prickle.

Taken aback, Joe needed a moment to regain control of himself and bring his attention back to Mister di Genova, who had never stopped chattering about Nicky’s many academic achievements. He had to blink and swallow multiple times, before he was able to tear his eyes away from Nicky’s, feeling slightly lightheaded, as if the other boy had bewitched him with a single look.

“Nicky?” Mister di Genova finally summoned his son.

And Nicky dog eared the page of the book he had been reading and dismounted from the table, the movement causing his shoulder-length brown hair to fall in front of his face. The movement he did with his wrist to push them behind his ears was possibly even more fascinating than his intense gaze.

Joe wanted to make him suck onto his fingers, push his thumb against his plush lower lip and slowly, _so slowly_ , slide it into his mouth, pressing on his tongue as Nicky sucked on it, looking up at him with pleading eyes from his kneeling position.

The violence of that thought took him by surprise, shaking him to the core. It had never happened before, that his brain was overtaken by the idea of fucking someone he had just met, someone he hadn’t even had the occasion to talk with.

But Nicky… the closer he got, the worse his situation became. There was something, in his lean and tall body, in his broad shoulders and in the curve of his neck, that was just dragging Joe crazy. Trying to be subtle, he shifted his duffle bag around, hoping that his tight jeans wouldn’t have betrayed him.

“Nicky,” he introduced himself, thrusting a hand forward. The rolled-up sleeve of his shirt showed his wonderfully toned forearm, the light blue vein that ran on the inside of his wrist.

Joe shook hands with him, forcing a smile out of his face that hopefully didn’t look like a pained grimace. “Joe.”

“Great, _Joe_. If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a tour and show you to your room.”

As if under a spell, Joe followed Nicky as the boy crossed the yard and stepped on the veranda, retrieving a pair of beat up Vans and slipping them onto his grass-stained feet before entering the mansion through a French door. Behind them, Mister di Genova followed silently, reminding Joe of those historical movies in which the two betrothed are getting to know each other and need to be chaperoned by an adult.

The inside of the house was just as luxurious as the outside, clearly furnished with great care; everything seemed to be white and beige, with wooden furniture that matched the parquet and breezy curtains hanging at the tall windows.

Foggy minded, Joe walked behind Nicky, watching completely enthralled the way he moved his body as he pointed towards a certain painting or opened and closed a door. His movements were sinuous, as if he was dancing. Or maybe Joe was just going crazy.

By the time they finished the tour of the ground floor, he was barely able to remember where the kitchen and the private gym where, and when the moved onto the first one, the only information he was able to absorb was that Nicky’s bedroom was at the end of the same corridor of where Joe’s was. The knowledge that they would have been sleeping only a few steps away thrilled him.

:i:

For the first few days, Joe was completely ignorant about what was actually going on: he would wake up before Nicky, spend the day in his company, and go to bed after the younger boy had shut his bedroom door. He’d drive Nicky to his study sessions at the college library and watch him from afar, sitting at enough of a distance that he couldn’t hear what he and his friends were discussing.

The burning desire that had caught his loins the moment his eyes had landed on him was still there, revived anytime he saw Nicky sporting one of his loose shirts that exposed his collarbones or when he swiped his hair behind his ears, showing the little silver earring that pierced his lobes, but he could live with that, swallow it down and ignore it until he was in his room with the lights off.

It took about a week, before the feeling of newness and enchantment with Nicky began to wear out and take the blinds away from Joe’s eyes, making him notice that something terribly wrong was going on. On a Saturday morning, Nicky emerged from his bedroom with a handful of silver glitter shining in his long hair. The day after, his eyes seemed to be suddenly much brighter and bigger, and it took a moment for Joe to realize he was wearing eyeliner – or at least he _had been_ wearing eyeliner, and hadn’t been able to scrub it off properly. Three days later, he appeared in the kitchen to have breakfast with swollen and ruddish lips, the lips of someone who had been face fucked (and had enjoyed every second of it); feigning absolute ignorance, Joe took a white cup from the rack and filled it with the mint tea that had just finished brewing, serving it to him while still scalding hot. At the first sip Nicky took, his lips left behind a stain of dark red lipstick on the ceramic.

Even if there were no doubts in Joe’s mind that the younger boy was sneaking out at night to go party, dressing up and doing his make-up as if he wasn’t at risk of being kidnapped, he knew that he couldn’t put him immediately under even stricter control: a single accusation made without evidence to back it up could’ve gotten him fired and destroyed his reputation within the business.

So, he waited for another two weeks and took notes, a task that, now that he knew where to look, was an incredibly easy one.

On the mornings of Saturdays and Sundays, Nicky was the most wrecked: he would get up later than usual and sluggishly make his way to the kitchen for breakfast before he could, with the excuse of having to study, accommodate himself on one of the beach chairs by the pool with a book in his hands and nap in the sun for the rest of the morning. On Wednesdays he would look tired too, and those were the days when he was most likely to still sport the signs of the night before: glitter in his hair, eyeliner smudged all around his eyes, a little heart drawn on his temple, the unmistakable reek of vodka clinging to his form.

Joe’s annoyance with the situation only grew when the memory of his colleagues smirking at him had gotten back to the forefront of his mind, to _slap_ him right across the face: they had been already hired and quit because apparently the brat couldn’t be stopped, and they were expecting him to do the same. Like fuck he would’ve ended like that! Nicky was so sure of himself and of never being caught (or having to pay for the consequences of his actions), that he had already gotten sloppy; Joe was sure that only with a little investigation he would’ve been able to find out how he was able to sneak out and, especially, who helped him with the operation.

It was a Thursday, the day Nicky’s study session was usually five hours long, that Joe dropped him off at the library and then drove all the way back home, his whole body shaking with irritation.

Because of how their rooms were placed, Nicky wouldn’t have been able to reach the stairs without walking in front of his door, and Joe was a light sleeper, agonizingly so, to the point that he always knew without fail when someone was moving around the house. There was absolutely no way Nicky was able to leave the house if his only way out was in the same path as where Joe would sleep.

It was after he parked the car that he remembered about the trellis that surrounded the house and how, on that first day, he had noticed them _especially_ under what had turned out to be Nicky’s bedroom window. Hoping that none of the other members of the staff would see him, Joe climbed up the trellis, using the horizontal bars as rungs. As he was halfway up, the structure curved under his weight, but seemed to be able to still support him and Nicky had always given him the impression of being lighter than him, his body being leaner and less muscular.

The fact that he would go to the length of climbing up and down a two-floor house in the most dangerous way possible just to be able to sneak out told Joe that his way of getting out of the property wasn’t by simply having a hidden copy of the gates keys. It really didn’t take much, for him, to find a green, _clearly new_ , ladder hidden between the bushes in the backyard.

And there it was, how Nicky managed to get out without getting caught: climbing on fucking trellis and leaping over walls. Oh, but if the little shit thought he could’ve kept it up with him there, he was _thoroughly_ mistaken.

Making sure to not alert Nicky of the fact that he knew anything about his escapes, Joe carried on with his daily tasks and was as accommodating as possible. The other boy would give him soft smiles and remind him of the fact that he could dip into the pool whenever he desired, treating him with what seemed to be the utmost respect while, behind his back, he was probably planning his next partying outfit.

On Friday night, Joe pretended to go to bed. He acted through his whole routine of having dinner with Nicky, telling him goodnight at nine, training for an hour in the gym, and then showering and locking his bedroom door. But this time, rather than changing into the threadbare wifebeater and grey sweatpants he slept in before curling into bed, he put on a black shirt and jeans, and tip toed downstairs. He had thought about that moment for two days, going over the details so obsessively until he had been able to come up with a scenario that could’ve been found in a movie. Part of that scene was the glass of bourbon he swiped from the liquor cabinet and one of the stupidly expensive cigarettes he had found beside the bottle.

Back pressed against the wall by the entrance, face illuminated only by the blue luminescence that came from the pool lights, Joe waited with his glass of liquor and intact cigarette for Nicky to open his bedroom door and begin his descent. He was feeling a little ridiculous, standing in almost complete darkness like that, wearing boots and almost salivating at the idea of being only minutes away from putting that brat back into his place, but he refrained himself from moving. He had to do things right, if he wanted to win.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for long: less than thirty minutes later, Nicky turned on one of the lamps in his bedroom, flooding the pavement before the pool with a soft light, and opened the window to begin his descent, causing the ivy leaves to rustle as the trellis shook under his weight.

Making sure to not be noticed, Joe swiftly moved from his position against the wall and went to the wooden garden chair, crossing his legs and lighting up the cigarette for added effect. With the cold blue lights of the pool shining on the tips of his boots and taking small sips of liquor, he watched as Nicky climbed his way down the wall, movements cautious but at the same time incredibly sure. He must have gotten a lot of practice, and the idea made the irritation that had taken over Joe’s chest flared up.

Taking a puff from his cigarette, he watched Nicky jump the last foot that divided him from the ground and fix his clothes and hair before turning.

It was then that their eyes met, and although dipped in shadows and fluorescent lights, Joe was able to see at first confusion and then absolute _panic_ fill his blue eyes. His entire body went so still it looked like he had stopped breathing.

“You goin’ somewhere?” Joe asked, tapping the cigarette to the side of the chair, letting the ashes fall on the floor. He swirled the bourbon in the glass, his gaze still fixated on the brat’s pale face, on his mouth left agape (and he had to push away the thought of taking his head between his hands and kissing him, pushing his tongue between his lips, fucking his mouth before bending him over).

The more Joe observed Nicky, the harder his cock got. Fuck… he took a sip of liquor and studied his clubbing outfit. He was wearing a cropped top that showed a good deal of his tanned stomach, and a long-sleeved fishnet shirt underneath it. His tight, _tight_ jeans left literally almost nothing to imagination, as adherent as they were to his thighs – and Joe could only imagine how defined his already glorious ass looked like, in those things. His entire upper body looked like it had been doused in silver glitter, which seemed to run across his exposed clavicles, his temples, his hair… and as Joe’s eyes followed the shimmering trail, they ended up on Nicky’s throat where, much to his secret delight, he was sporting a black leather chocker, with a silver ring hanging from its front.

Joe licked his lips and took another sip, adjusting his position in the chair to hide his erection. Nicky looked absolutely delicious, and he would’ve very much liked to take a bite.

He began blinking furiously, as if he had just woken up from a nightmare, before answering: “Just… just taking a breath…?”

Downing the last finger of his drink and abandoning the glass beside the chair, Joe put the cigarette between his lips and rose from the chair and walked up to him. “You sure?”

Nicky forcefully swallowed, making the ring hanging from the collar dangle. He looked around for a moment, before raising his eyes to look at him and bending his lips into a smirk. It was as if his entire face had transformed to bring to light a completely different side of him that he usually didn’t show. The good, obedient son and student that Nicky was during the day was nothing more than a mask he would wear to hide his true, mischievous nature. “I have to say that you’re smarter than the other guys that my dad hired before you,” he tilted his head to the side, gaze running up and down Joe’s body. “It took them all far longer to figure it out.”

“Oh, so it’s a game for you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I do what I can to have a little fun.” And shot an open smile in his direction, friendly and lovely in the same way he had been when they had first met, but Joe couldn’t stop noticing that the naughty shine that had filled his eyes was still there. “So… what now? You want to punish me? Call my dad and tell him I’ve been a bad boy?” his voice was sultry, low, as if his throat was preparing itself to purr.

Although Joe wanted to _devour_ him, carry him upstairs and finger him until he _begged_ to be fucked, the irritation he felt when he realized he was falling for those extremely basic seduction gave him the strength to resist them.

He smiled too before taking the cigarette from the corner of his mouth and nudging the side of the filter against Nicky’s lips, who opened them and took a deep puff.

“So?” he asked, blowing the smoke directly in Joe’s face.

“ _So_ I think it’s really time for you to begin to follow the rules.”

His entire face scrunched up, as if he hadn’t expected to receive that answer. “No, I don’t think I will.” He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and grinded it into the pavement with the heel of his boot. “In fact, I think we could come up with a nice little collaboration, between the two of us.” And without ever breaking eye contact, he placed a hand on his stomach, running his palm over the middle of his abs.

Joe _had to_ take a deep breath, before he was able to talk. “I bet you’d _really_ like to have me at your mercy, mh? Doing what you want, obeying everything you say…” He didn’t miss the way Nicky’s pupils widened for a moment when he heard the offer, and had to bite back a victorious smile. For being an evil genius who had been able to find his way around the security hired to protect him _multiple times_ , that brat was really easy to read. “Well…” mimicking Nicky, he began playing with the cut hem of his crop top, thumb stroking gently his warm belly and making his breath hitch. “I don’t see why not.”

A beautiful flush colored his cheeks and he licked his lips, staining his tongue with the lipstick he was wearing. It was lovely to see that, for the first time in the course of the night, he didn’t know what to say.

His body was completely wired, nervous, _alive_. The soft and well-worn cloth of the shirt under his knuckles sparked pleasure signals that travelled from the pads of his fingers to his spine, causing his loins to tremble. When he finally reached the collar, cold and hard and _rough_ under his touch, it was as if an electric shock went through his whole body, making him curl his toes in his boots.

He hooked two fingers into the ring and dipped down, so that his mouth could brush against Nicky’s earlobe. The brat was _shivering_ with expectations, his breaths coming out of his agape mouth in shallow exhales. And then he murmured: “Or maybe I do.”

Without giving him any time to react, he took a step back and turned into the direction of the entrance, keeping his hold on Nicky’s collar to drag him inside. The brat let out a chocked sound before hurrying after him.

“You can’t do this!”

“I really don’t think you have a say in this.”

Listening to Nicky protest and stumble behind him, Joe managed to get him inside and then up the stairs. It was only when they were in front of his bedroom door that he let the ring of the collar go. “I’m really sorry,” no he wasn’t, “but I _had to_ do it.”

Nicky crossed his arms and pursed his lips, an irritated flush was heating his cheeks. He looked absolutely ridiculous, all puffed up in an attempt at looking tough. “I’ll call my father and get you fired,” he announced while trying to stare him down.

To hide the smile that was blossoming on his face, Joe had to roll his eyes. “No, you won’t.”

“Why? Because you’re saying so? You don’t know-”

“Look, Nicky,” he said in his most relaxed tone, putting a hand between them. His fingers were itching with the desire of caressing Nicky, sneaking under his crop top and touching his warm skin through the fishnet. “I’m just doing my job, and in order to do my job, I need to know you’re safe and not dipping your nose in a line of coke at whatever parties you go to three times a week. It’s really nothing personal, and I’m sorry you got all dolled up just to be put back into your room, but, you know… that’s life.”

He shot him a _nasty_ look. “And? I got rid of the others too, why do you think you’re somehow special?”

Joe shrugged. “I figured out how you’re able to leave, it would take me _seconds_ to tell your father and have your security multiplied by five. I’m not afraid of you, Nicky. Nor of your father.”

It was impossible to miss the way Nicky tightened his jaw. His gaze was darting from side to side, blinking in the same way he did when he was doing his assignments or studying a particularly hard topic; it was the signal that the gears of his brain were working at full force, trying to find a solution. He looked like he was about two seconds away from bursting into frustrated tears, and kept rubbing his eyes even if it meant spreading his black eyeliner almost all over his face. “So what now? Are you going to spend the entire night downstairs, hoping I won’t try to get out again?”

Trying not to make things worse, because he would’ve never been able to forgive himself if he made Nicky cry, Joe patted his arm. “I think you’re smarter than that,” and as he said that sentence, he gave him a smile and gently pushed him into his bedroom, closing the door.

He stayed in the corridor for a few more minutes, listening Nicky putter around the room, turning on the shower of the ensuite bathroom, soft sniffles almost completely covered by the noise of the clothes he was letting fall on the floor.

Taking deep breaths, it took Joe all of his will to peel himself off of the door and go to his bedroom, the need to cradle the brat in his arms and cuddle with him until he stopped crying tortured him until he was able to finally fall asleep.

:i:

At breakfast, the morning after, Nicky didn’t show up.

As Joe and the cook sipped their teas and ate their bowls of oatmeal, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the night before, going over and over the details again, the glitters shining in Nicky’s hair, the perfume he had been wearing, the thick collar strapped around his throat… he knew the brat hadn’t escaped in the middle of the night, he was far too smart to try to do it again minutes after getting caught, but at the same time worried about him. And maybe a little jealousy flared up too, at the thought that he could’ve been dressing up for someone.

“Is he feeling sick?” the cook asked, glancing at the door as if expecting Nicky to appear.

Joe nodded, standing up to get a clean mug and bowl. “Maybe. He wasn’t feeling too well yesterday,” he said, casually letting the lie slip through his teeth as he filled the mug with tea and the bowl with the rest of the oatmeal.

“He studies too much, that kid.”

“Yeah, he keeps stressing himself out.”

He placed the dinnerware on a tray and added cutlery, a paper napkin, and a slice of buttered toast too. “Gonna bring him breakfast.”

The cook nodded. “Don’t make him come downstairs if he’s sick: I don’t want the germs to spread to the entire house.”

Smiling, Joe left the kitchen.

Upstairs, he knocked on Nicky’s bedroom door but, upon receiving no answer, he let himself in.

With the curtains still pulled, the room was submerged in almost complete darkness, and Joe had to walk carefully in order to not stumble and make a fool of himself while carrying a tray full of hot liquids and fragile objects. Finally, he reached Nicky’s desk and, using his elbow, made a little space for the food between the books left open.

Nicky was still in bed, and as wrapped as he was in the sheets and blankets, he looked more like a huge larva than a human being. The only recognizable thing was his long hair, fanned out on the pillow like feathers.

“I brought you breakfast,” he announced, pacing around the room and retrieving the articles of clothing littered on the floor. The clubbing outfit he had been wearing the night before was a pool of cloth in front of the bathroom door. “You should really eat something.”

A grunt came from under the covers.

“Look, I have no intention of being mean, you know _why_ I’m doing it.”

A second lament, the blankets shuffled around a bit.

“It’s for your safety.”

A third grunt, this time something that could’ve been understood as a very muffled “Sure”, but Joe wouldn’t have been too sure of it.

He sighed. “Eat your breakfast and come downstairs, before the cook calls your parents and tells them you got the plague,” and left the room.

:i:

In the following days, Nicky laid low: his shirt was always buttoned up right, his eyes weren’t rimmed with eyeliner anymore, his hair was glitter free. He went back to waking up at the same time as always, having meals with Joe and the rest of the staff in the kitchen if his parents weren’t there, going to his study group, spending the day researching and doing assignments.

Needless to say that Joe didn’t trust that sudden change; Nicky was a cunning little creature whose only mistake had been overestimating how dumb the people around him actually were (or maybe the other bodyguards that Mister di Genova had picked had been absolute _morons_ ), which had lead him to be sloppy. He was smart as a whip and most definitely knew how to manipulate people too. There was no doubt, in Joe’s mind, that he was thinking about something to be able to get his way, and that period of tranquility was nothing but the proverbial calm that proceeded the storm.

Joe could feel Nicky’s eyes piercing his back anytime he turned, and knew the reason for it was not as flattering as he would’ve liked.

:i:

As he had predicted, the storm came, but reached the shore so slowly Joe almost didn’t notice it.

The di Genova spent very little time with their son, often leaving him alone in the California mansion while they travelled around the States. They’d show up from time to time to pat Nicky on the head for how well his studies were going and to check that the house was still standing. Mister di Genova even took a couple of minutes to get Joe into his studio and thank him for the _amazing_ work he was doing in keeping his son safe and sound, as he was used to seeing the bodyguards he hired to protect Nicky leaving after only a few weeks, if not days. When he had said that his son also seemed to be less tired than usual, Joe had had to stop himself from cackling.

Their visit in the middle of July was nothing but a leg of Mister di Genova’s campaign, as Nicky’s parents arrived at the mansion on a Friday afternoon and had a formal press conference the following morning, a meeting where they wanted to bring their son too.

Being part of the security team, Joe followed Nicky around the backstage, eyes drawn to his ass, which was _wonderfully_ hugged by the pants of his pinstriped suit. He didn’t know if it was the cut or just his incredible body, but his mouth began salivating anytime he walked behind him and he had to forcefully stop himself from stepping into Nicky’s personal space, wrapping his arms around his waist, and pressing his cock between his ass cheeks.

Mister and Mrs di Genova stepped onto the stage first, waving and smiling those broad, toothpaste commercial worthy, smiles. Nicky was supposed to go next, and as he was preparing himself to leave the curtains, when Joe grabbed his arm and stopped him from moving forward.

“Spit it,” he ordered with a serious voice that didn’t leave space for any questions. He put his palm under Nicky’s mouth.

All innocent eyes and pouting mouth, the brat kept chewing on his gum. He fluttered his eyelashes. “Spit what?”

“ _Nicky_.” His tone was rough, low, that seemed to come from his throat rather than his mouth. He could feel the tension in his jaw and knew that his eyebrows had drawn together in a disapproving scowl. “I told you to _spit_. _It_.”

Not a question, a _demand_.

Nicky’s pupils widened for a split second before he lowered his head and spit the gum into his palm. His cheekbones were flushed, and so was the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you,” Joe told him, letting a little sarcasm go through his words.

The brat nodded sheepishly and with his head still low, proceeded to walk on stage.

:i:

It was _then_ that things went to shit. The moment Joe got him to spit his gum into the palm of his hand was when the floodgates had opened and Nicky had finally gotten the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle he had been putting together since he had been caught sneaking out.

It started with small changes, with Nicky spending his days by in the backyard rather than in the study or the library, and switching his long pants and jeans for shorts. He would still wear breezy button-downs that were too big for his frame, but it didn’t take much, for Joe, to catch onto the fact that he was buttoning them less and less, until the fabric would slip off of his shoulder and expose his lovely collarbone and the somehow still pale expanse of his chest. He would comb his hair into a loose bun too, the strands that managed to escape the hair band framing his face and neck. Everything looked very effortless, but the moment Joe caught sight of the silver shine of a nipple piercing, he _knew_ that Nicky’s new outfits weren’t a choice driven by the temperatures.

Soon, the brat’s clothes turned into nothing but tight swimming shorts and his favorite reading position became one of the beach chairs by the pool, where he’d spend the day toasting in the sun, his skin turning a healthy golden shade.

And the meanwhile, as Nicky was as undressed as he could be without being _technically_ naked, he would ask Joe a thousand questions, about his life, what he did before being hired by his father, how was his relationship with his parents. Under the layer of his personality that was almost unsufferable, there was a nice and interesting young man who had a genuine interest in other people and a culture that surely made his professors more than happy to have him as their student. When the sun disappeared behind the horizon, they would play long chess games in the study or watch TV together. Usually, Nicky would fall asleep on the couch and because Joe didn’t want to wake him up, he’d take him in his arms and bring him to his bedroom, laying him between the sheets and tucking him in.

He liked Nicky, and there was no way to go around that. He liked his smile, his clear attempts at seduction, the way he spoke and how passionate he was about the topics he was studying. He liked even the silver piercings he had at his nipples and the one above his bellybutton, which were clearly a secret his parents didn’t know about because anything they visited, he would cover up and completely ignore the poolside. It was impossible for Joe to _not_ wonder about how he had gotten them, if one of the friends who used to pick him up to go partying had driven him to a tattoo shop or if he had hired someone to come to his house and do them there.

His mind was always filled with Nicky, Nicky, _Nicky_. Nicky laying on a beach chair and eating a cherry popsicle, smirking lightly at him and making direct eye contact as his red stained tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips before he could wrap them around the tip of the ice and _suck_ until his cheeks hollowed; Nicky watching him while he trained at the home gym, propped on one hand and completely at ease, as if he was the most incredible show he had ever seen; Nicky sitting in front of him as they played chess, his fingers brushing the piece he intended to move, raising it from the board to press it against the corner of his mouth, eyes slowly lifting from the game to look at his face and then plunging back to the board before Joe could return his gaze.

Between all those mixed signals and the different personalities Nicky presented, Joe felt as if his brain was being scrambled. There were no doubts that it was the effect the brat had been going for, but being aware of the fact that he was being fucked with didn’t mean that he couldn’t be affected by it.

Anytime his cock got hard it was because of Nicky, and every single fantasy he had featured that horrible, _horrible_ brat too.

He’d lie in bed at the end of the day, muscles aching after finishing his training, hair still wet from the shower, and his mind would immediately go to Nicky’s smooth face, the rivulet of sweat that would slowly drip from the middle of his throat to his bellybutton piercing, his _fantastic_ ass that looked even more incredible in that swimsuit.

Stroking his cock, Joe imagined himself approaching the brat as he was eating one of those cherry popsicles, taking it out of his mouth, and using his thumb to clean the drop of juice that was lingering on his bottom lip. His lips would be cold, and so his tongue, all red with food dye and with the taste of artificial fruit soaked into them; Joe would kiss him so gently, sucking on his plump bottom lip until he moaned. And then, once the brat relaxed and looked at him with dreamy eyes, Joe would smirk down at him and drape him across his lap, pull down his swimsuit, and spank him until his hand left an exact print of his fingers onto Nicky’s white ass. He already knew that the brat would’ve gotten _so_ hard, leaking all over his lap and dripping onto the floor. Fuck, would the pleasure mixed with the frustration and pain make him cry? Would tears stain his cheeks while Joe massaged Nicky’s heated flesh, willingly ignoring his hard cock even if he was trying to rub it against his leg so desperately? Joe wanted all of that and more, until Nicky’s brain was as scrambled as his and was left too fucked out to even speak. He wanted to _bite_ and _eat_ him.

:i:

On a Saturday night, he was laying on his bed after dinner, uncertain if he wanted to jerk off or watch something on Netflix before turning the lights off. Honestly, he felt five minutes away from falling asleep, his eyes closing against his will.

With one hand down his sweatpants and his eyelids shutting by themselves, a sudden knock made him jolt awake. Blinking frantically, he adjusted himself in his boxers and tried to cover as best as he could the clear shape of his hard dick with his shirt before shuffling to the door.

Nicky smiled at him, hair pushed back from his face and still wet from the shower and wearing nothing but his white fluffy bathrobe. “Did I wake you up?”

Joe shook his head, but the yawn that followed, with the half-attempted gesture of covering his mouth, clearly gave away the fact that sleep would’ve taken him sooner rather than later. “No, don’t worry. Can I help you with something?”

“I think my shoulders burned a bit, today,” Nicky explained, taking a lotion bottle from his pocket and nudging it into his direction. “It’s not bad, but it’s kind of itching, you know? And I can’t reach and it’s really annoying, so…” he nudged the bottle a little more, until Joe took it, and then turned and lowered his bathrobe to his waist, leaving the expanse of his back and shoulders exposed.

Nothing looked out of place, his tan was as perfect as ever and there wasn’t a hint of irritation nor redness, so maybe it was the lack of sleep or maybe it was the need to fuck that had been torturing him for the past few weeks, but Joe didn’t waste a second to squeeze some lotion out of the bottle, put it back into Nicky’s pocket, and begin massaging it between his shoulder blades.

Smearing it in circles over the lean muscles, going for his shoulders and then descending again, using his thumbs to massage the lotion into the thin skin that covered his spine… Joe swallowed, feeling hot all over. They were so close he was breathing directly onto Nicky’s neck, and he could hear the tiny humming noises he emitted anytime he put more pressure into his strokes. And under Joe’s palms and fingers, his skin was scorching hot, pliable and soft, ready for him to sink his teeth in.

He licked his lips and took a step back as soon as the lotion was absorbed and massaged in, rubbing his oily hands over his pants. “Done,” he mumbled with a raucous voice.

Nicky covered himself again and turned to graciously smile at him. “Thank you. Hope you have a goodnight!” and disappeared down the hallway, back into his bedroom.

Joe stood in front of the open door breathing _hard_. The electricity that had run through his limbs back when he had stopped him from sneaking out was back, wiring his entire body with a sort of energy that made him feel more alive than ever.

Suddenly, his tiredness was gone, replaced by an arousal that made him _rabid_. He threw himself on the bed and got his hand back into his boxers, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking himself but with no intention of coming _just yet_. No, he wanted that moment to be drawn on, stretch it for long enough that he would’ve had the time to come up with more and more fantasies featuring Nicky.

Making the boy get onto his hands and knees and coming on his back, then massaging his own spunk into his skin just like how he had done with the lotion. Letting Nicky straddle his chest and watching him finger himself until he comes in the shallow cavity between Joe’s pecs, without ever touching his dick, of course.

His cock was so hard it almost hurt, his heart beating fast in his chest, when he heard the quiet but unmistakable sound of steps making their way down the corridor.

Not even thinking about his erection anymore, he sprung up and threw himself in the hallway, _fuming_ because he knew _exactly_ whose walking patter that was.

Right in front of him, Nicky was looking at him with saucer-like eyes, boots in his hand and party outfit on. Joe could swear that he saw him mouth a silent “Shit”.

“Seriously?” Joe asked, trying to mask his breathlessness for being caused by the sudden commotion rather than by the fact that he had spent _way too much time_ jerking off without giving himself relief.

Nicky swallowed, Adam’s Apple bobbing, before he was able to regain composure. “I thought you were going to bed...”

“I clearly didn’t.”

The brat rolled his eyes, circled again with black eyeshadow, and huffed before resuming his walk to the staircase with an annoyed expression on his face.

Joe didn’t hesitate to grab him by the arm and pull him towards himself with so much strength Nicky let the boots go and crashed into his chest. It was then that Joe noticed the smell _his_ clothes were emanating. “Have you used my cologne?”

Nicky looked at him, all smug. “What if I did?”

And then, after taking a better look at the dark button down he was wearing, with the first buttons left free so that it could slide down one of his shoulders: “Is this my shirt? Did you go through my stuff?!”

“Sometimes you’re in the gym for so long and I don’t know what to do. I’m so lonely sometimes, Joe…” he _purred_ , looking up at him through his eyelashes. So coyly, so shyly for a guy who didn’t know shame.

“Alone and abandoned, uh?” Joe ran his fingers up his arm.

“So alone…” he pouted. He pressed himself flush to him, from chest to knees, grinding against his erection, and offered him another one of his Cheshire Cat-like smiles. “But I see I’m not the only one.”

“Mh… is that so? You think you know everything about me too?”

“You’re right, it was _so_ condescending of me to assume how you’re feeling… maybe you should punish me, make sure I learn to keep my big mouth closed… to stop sneaking out.”

 _Oh_. So _that’s_ what Nicky had been aiming for. Joe couldn’t stop a smirk from bending his lips as he cupped his face with his hands.

“Yeah, maybe I should. Not listening to me, stealing my stuff, dressing like this too…” he breathed against Nicky’s mouth. “Endangering yourself for fun…”

Under a veil of gloss, Nicky’s lips were pink and plump, delectable like nothing else. Joe dipped his head down and brushed his against the brat’s, a stroke that tasted of chemical strawberries and was so sticky that, when he pulled away, he had to lick himself clean with a tongue swipe.

Nicky was looking at him with eyes at half-mast, but Joe could see that his pupils were blown wide enough that they had completely engulfed the light blue of the iris.

“So?” Joe asked.

“So what?”

Joe let out a chuckle and wrapped his arms around Nicky’s waist and kissed him again, dipping his tongue into his mouth, tasting lip gloss and mint toothpaste on his taste buds. As he was sucking on his tongue, he guided Nicky’s arms to be around his neck before going back down, grabbing his ass for a second before moving onto his thighs, giving him a small push with his hips until he got the clue and jumped into his arms, wrapping his strong legs around his waist.

Careful to not let Nicky’s weight get to him, Joe carried him back into his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them, never stopping kissing him. With one hand, he opened the zipper and button of Nicky’s jeans.

He moved onto his neck before throwing him onto the bed, where he landed letting out a high-pitched _yelp_ , a sound that was a mixture of pain and pleasure, causing Joe to quirk an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Nicky licked his lips, gloss smeared almost to his cheeks and chin, and gave him a sultry look and adjusted himself to have his legs swing off of the bed. “Come and check.”

Too curious to keep up with the disappointed façade, Joe kneeled on the bed, right between Nicky’s spread thighs, and let his fingers run over the open zipper, brushing the hard shape of his cock. The brat let out a moan, arching his back a little too, and Joe drank in the vision he was as he whimpered under his touch.

Without ever giving him enough pressure to get him off, Joe caressed the length of his dick through the fabric before dipping his head down and kissing the exposed piece of stomach he was offering, his lips meeting the flesh just underneath the bellybutton with a wet smack. He gave him a light bite too, sinking his teeth into the skin hard enough to leave the pink impression of his teeth etched into his abdomen.

“You’re so hard already, baby,” Joe murmured, deepening his voice. As he pulled down Nicky’s jeans, he wasn’t even surprised to find that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear. He smirked: “No shame at all, I see.”

Nicky smiled at him, stretching his arms over his head, and shimmied his hips to help him with lowering his pants.

Once those were off, Joe took a moment to admire the differences of skin tone between the part of his body where he would tan, and the part where he was always covered. And his cock, of course, so hard it was already leaking.

However, he decided to ignore it, brushing his fingers against it only to hear the brat’s breath hitch, but then made him raise one leg, prop the foot on the edge of the bed, and ran the pads of his fingers over his balls, already drawn up and tight, and then… the flat and lukewarm base of a plug, hard against his fingers. Joe pressed it gently into Nicky and, after watching him flush and let out a broken little moan, murmured: “You naughty brat.”

Nicky laughed, covering his face in sudden embarrassment.

He stood up from the bed and took off his shirt, rolling his shoulders and abs in a movement that he _knew_ would make his muscles bulge. Stroking himself through the fabric of his sweatpants, Joe commanded: “Show me how you do it.”

“What?”

“Show me how you fuck yourself, baby,” he breathed. “Show me how you like it, how you have _dreamt_ I’d fuck you.”

Nicky let out a shaky breath before rolling on his stomach, raising to his knees and keeping his face pressed against the mattress, ass in the air. It was impossible for Joe to not smile, when he saw that the plug nestled in his hole was a jewel one, because of course, _of course_ a brat like Nicky would have a jewel plug, as well as being completely waxed, smooth and beautiful. And as the brat reached back to toy with it, to fuck it in and out, soft moans coming out of his mouth, he also noticed that the base of the plug was the same shade of purple as the nail polish his nails were painted with.

Joe licked his lips and kept stroking himself, hips rolling into his own hand. “Like that, uh?”

Nodding his head, Nicky let out a small: “Yeah.”

“I bet you have so many toys… a slutty boy like you, wearing collars and sneaking out to party, how could you not?” Joe stifled a moan. “You think of me, when you play with your toys?”

“Yes…”

“Yeah, I thought so…” He let his cock go and pressed two fingers against the base of the plug, pushing it further in and making Nicky groan in pleasure. The small of his back was covered by a shining layer of sweat. “Is that why you took my cologne, baby? To spray it on my shirt and fuck yourself while breathing it in, all stretched out around a toy you wished _so hard_ would be my cock? Were you humping a pillow too, thrusting into it because you’re so slutty you can’t come unless every single part of your body is tended to?”

Nicky pressed his face into the mattress, and Joe _knew_ he was biting the sheets.

“Oh, Nicky… my naughty, naughty baby… you don’t have to worry, _I_ will take care of you.”

And just like that, he took control of Nicky’s plug, fucking it in and out of his hole, watching it stretch around the steel toy, so lubed and red and ready to be _ruined_.

Joe pulled the plug out and threw it one the bed and hooked both arms around Nicky’s thighs, dragging him with him when he threw himself on his knees. Mouth watering, he pressed his face in the cleft of his ass, _lapping_ at his stretched out hole, enjoying the way Nicky’s body tensed before he began to push back, desperately trying to fuck himself with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, _Joe_ … fuck!”

The taste of strawberry lube wasn’t what he had expected, but he could work with it, especially because he _knew_ that Nicky had chosen that taste because it was the same as his lip gloss.

He fucked Nicky with his tongue, licking and sucking around the rim until his jaw went stiff with the unnatural exercise, the brat shivering in pleasure.

When he took his head back, he _spat_ on his hole, watching his saliva drool down until it dripped onto his balls. It wasn’t something he was used to doing, but he felt like the brat would’ve appreciated it immensely; the broken moan that followed was enough to confirm it.

“So pretty, Nicky…” he got back to lapping him. “I want to fuck you so hard…” Joe managed to mumble between delving his tongue in, fucking him as good as he could, massaging his perineum with his thumb but making sure to _never_ touch his cock and balls. “Would you come on my cock, baby?” he asked when he took a pause to breathe in and shake off the stiffness of his jaw. “Uh? Would you come while you’re being fucked _only_ by my cock, without _ever_ touching your dick? I bet you could. I bet a slut like you could come without ever jerking off, if I’m the one doing the fucking.”

He licked a wide and long strip that went from the underside of his balls, stopping himself to smack a kiss on Nicky’s ridiculously enticing hole, fucking into it with his tongue for a second before resuming his lap to his tailbone. And then he did it again, this time from the tailbone to his balls, kissing his hole another time, letting his tongue linger for a second against the base of Nicky’s hard, _leaking_ dick.

The brat was a shaking, moaning mess.

With one last kiss left on each out his ass cheeks, Joe unhooked his arms and turned him on his back again, rising to his feet with a satisfying knee pop. “You okay?” he asked, looking at Nicky’s flustered face, the redness that had colored it spread down to his chest, where his nipple piercings were more enticing than ever; the shirt was all scrunched up, pulled so low on his torso some of the buttons _must_ have been ripped.

In one smooth move, he shook off his sweatpants and boxers, standing naked between Nicky’s splayed thighs, and the brat swallowed hard, eyes locked onto his hard, leaking cock. “Shit, you’re big.”

Joe couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up his chest. “Bet you can take me well enough.”

Nicky nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. A puddle of come had formed on his stomach, and Joe wanted to lick that clean too.

Crawling back onto the mattress, Joe slotted himself between Nicky’s legs, kissing the center of his sternum, relishing in the heat his flesh was emanating, rubbing his lips on his left pec, kissing and sucking on his nipple, then moving to the right side, giving the same treatment to the other nipple too.

“Fuck, Joe…” Nicky moaned, pulling his hair and letting out a deep sigh.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he mumbled against his throat, covering it in kisses and gentle bites. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never even think of going out.”

At that they both chuckled, and it was while they were laughing that Joe went in for another kiss, capturing his tongue and lips for only a few seconds before swiping his tongue over them, in a lurid open-mouthed lick that almost finished onto the tip of Nicky’s nose.

“Want you to fuck me so hard, Joe…”

“Oh, don’t worry baby, I _will_.”

He adjusted Nicky’s legs around his waist and once they were so close again he couldn’t resist to the temptation of grabbing the brat’s face so that they could kiss again, this time deeply, allowing him to _ravage_ his mouth with his teeth, fucking his tongue in and out until he whimpered in pleasure. And with the other hand, he guided his cock to Nicky’s stretched entrance, letting the tip linger against it until Nicky let out a disgruntled and annoyed little sound and tried to shuffle more towards it. Joe, however, was able to keep him still, pressing his cock into him a bit more but without actually penetrating him.

“What do you have to say?” he asked, lips still pressed against the corner of Nicky’s mouth in a smirk.

Nicky let out a groan and his arms left Joe’s back, falling at his sides. Spoiled little brat wasn’t used to having to _ask_ for things: they were always offered to him on a silver platter. Well… not in this case they weren’t! But by the heavy and enthusiastic breathing that was shaking Nicky’s chest, he wasn’t minding having to work for it too much.

“Please fuck me?” Nicky asked.

Joe kissed him in the crook of his neck, where his pulse was thumping and the sign of his teeth was still visible. “Mh… I think we have already established that you’re a slut for my cock.” The pulse picked up for a split second.

Nicky groaned again, but his lament died the moment Joe pushed his cock into him. Not even all of it, not even the entirety of the tip, just the tiniest taste so that the brat could feel how big he was and eat his heart out at the thought of not having him inside of him and fucking him already. A low breath left his lungs as his eyes watered, and he mewled: “I promise I won’t sneak out and try to get you fired again, Joe.”

“Much better.”

And Joe kept his promise, pushing his entire length into Nicky, one long stroke that allowed him to bury _all_ of himself inside of him, until they were pressed flush against each other. They both were breathing hard, looking at each other in the eyes, and fuck, Joe hadn’t noticed that Nicky had shed a few tears at some point, his make-up all smudged and trickled to his temples.

“Nicky…” he let out, Nicky’s nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck.”

Nicky was tight and hot and _wonderful_ , and Joe had to squeeze his eyes and focus as much as possible to not come less to his promises and come immediately like an idiot. He pulled back all the way, almost enough for his cock to fall out of Nicky’s hole, and then _slammed_ back in, tearing a moan out of both of them. As he was preparing for another push, a broken whine came out of the brat, so Joe pushed in hard again, more focused on how Nicky was enjoying it rather than his own pleasure.

He dipped down and kissed his swollen lips again, fucking into him slowly, moving his hips in circular movements, fucking his mouth at the same rhythm he was fucking his ass. “You’re so beautiful, Nicky,” he managed to say, between one breath and the other. “You have no idea of how long I’ve wanted to fuck you for. _No,_ ” another stroke, stronger than the others, “ _idea_.”

Nicky dug his nails into his back, scratching it, and the pain mixed with the pleasure and everything went to his cock, making him pant.

“Gonna come without hands?” he asked in a husky voice, looking at Nicky right in the eyes. His hard, leaking dick was pressed between their stomaches, and Joe could feel every twitch that ran through it into his belly. “Gonna come without touching yourself, baby?”

Nicky let out a hiccupping moan and nodded furiously, head almost bouncing on the mattress. He was crying again, tears falling onto his temples and disappearing in his hairline.

Joe changed the way he was rotating his hips, the angle of it, and knew he had found Nicky’s prostate the moment the brat’s body tensed completely and his short nails found their way into the flesh of his back. “There, baby?”

Nicky nodded again, eyes wide, lip captured between his teeth. “Again, Joe… _please_ …”

And begging looked so good on him that Joe couldn’t really say no. Keeping Nicky as close as possible to hear every hitched breath, every swallowed noise, he kept fucking him at the same angle, same rhythm, leaving as many dark hickeys as possible to mark his perfect skin.

His thighs and abs were burning with exertion and from his loins he could feel his orgasm mounting, coming closer and closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he had an armful of brat to take care of.

“Come, Nicky,” Joe murmured in his ear in a wet pant. He pushed Nicky’s dark hair away from his forehead and left a kiss there too, wiping his lips against the sweaty and hot skin.

Nicky opened his mouth in the most beautiful mewling sound he had ever heard and arched his back again, nails digging and digging and _digging_. It was then that something must have _broken_ inside of him, as the arch of his back got higher, the legs around Joe’s waist went stiff as his entire body tensed and he _finally_ came, splashing come against their stomachs in a series of hot spurts.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Nicky…”

Fist holding onto his long hair, Joe had to force himself to slow down himself to give him time to recover. Nicky was _so_ gorgeous like that, with his eyes rolled back and drool coming out of the corner of his mouth.

“Want you to come inside of me,” Nicky told him as soon as he managed to get some control over himself again, eyes lustful but clear.

And that was enough to absolutely undo him. Joe’s hips stuttered, once, twice, and then everything became too much and he came inside of him, a groan leaving his lips as his body curled towards Nicky’s and he squeezed his eyes as hard as possible.

Almost unable to breathe, he didn’t even give himself time to recover: with his eyes still shut, he searched for the other boy’s mouth with his own and pressed their lips together, hand still fisted in Nicky’s hair as they kissed and gasped for air at the same time. He couldn’t even taste the strawberry gloss anymore.

He broke the kiss when he felt like his lungs were close to explosion. Opening his eyes, as he broke the kiss, he couldn’t stop a smile for forming on his face: he was beautiful, with his sweaty face and hair and runny make-up, swollen lips littered with silver glitters and now bruised into a dark red shade. Nicky mirrored his expression before nuzzling into his beard.

Muscles straining in effort, Joe got them on the bed properly and accommodated them on their sides, making sure to not slip out of him yet, because even if he was going soft, he wanted to spend just another few seconds inside of him.

With his head pillowed by Joe’s bicep, onto which he nuzzled too, Nicky looked like he was going to fall asleep in seconds, still tangled in the black shirt and with his hair smelling of sweat and gel.

They cuddled each other for a while, before Joe realized that he was thirsty as fuck and there was come dripping onto his bed and drying on their bellies.

“Nicky…” he mumbled.

“Mmh?”

“Do you want water?”

Nicky opened his eyes at half-mast, as if he was too tired to actually open them, mascara clumping his eyelashes together. “Yes, please,” his voice was so drowsy with sleep Joe could barely make any sense of his words.

“Okay…” he kissed his temple and slowly, perhaps too slowly, slid out of Nicky’s warm body, causing the both of them to hiss through their teeth. “If you weren’t so tired, I’d eat you out again.”

Nicky opened one eye and grinned: “You can still do that.”

“And the water can wait, right?”

He nodded before rolling onto his bed, spreading his legs just enough for his still gaping hole to be _beautifully_ exposed, causing Joe’s mouth to water at the sight of the puffy rim leaking come. _His_ come. Fuck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the last lucid part of his mind reminded him that they should’ve probably used a condom, but… oh, well… it was too late for that anyways.

On his knees again, Joe opened his ass with his hands and delved into it for a second time, cleaning him out, lapping his own come into his mouth and swallowing it before pushing his tongue back into Nicky. If that day hadn’t exhausted him thoroughly, he would’ve probably gotten hard another time. In fact, no, it wasn’t a probability: his cock was already lightly twitching, but his brain needed the blood to take care of the task at hand, rather than sending it in other parts of his body. It was fine, they could go through a second session in a couple of hours.

With one last stroke, tongue and jaw aching in the most pleasurable way, Joe kissed the still gaping rim and slapped one of his cheeks lightly. He cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You okay?” he asked.

Nicky lolled his head in a nod. “Yeah… wanna water tho…” his voice was so sleepy Joe doubted that he would’ve found him still awake once he got back with the water.

After another forehead kiss, Joe got off of the bed and grabbed his sweatpants from the floor, pulling them on even if he was feeling absolutely disgusting and in need of a shower. However, instead of leaving the room, he reached for Nicky again and gently turning his head, planting a kiss on his lips that made the brat smile softly, even if he kept his eyes closed and, as soon as Joe let him go, his head dropped back onto the pillow. “Thank you.”

“Whatever you want, dear.”

He stayed there for a moment, caressing his hair out of his face and then, after kissing the top of his head too, finally managed to tear himself away from him and get out of the room.

Quietly padding around, he reached the kitchen, where he took a glass of fridge cold water and downed it all in only a few gulps before refilling the glass. Before leaving, he got a clean rag and soaked it in warm water and a little bit of hand soap too.

Back into his room, Nicky looked like he had already dozed off, but Joe hadn’t miss that he had opened an eye when the door had opened and closed.

Joe reached him and sat on what apparently was _his_ side of the bed, watching him accommodate himself even if it meant fighting against the fabric of the shirt in which his arms and shoulders were still tangled. He should’ve really helped him take it off before he got strangled in it, but he just couldn’t stop admiring the wonderful contrast it created with his tanned skin, and with the pale patch of his ass and thighs. Joe pushed his hair back and, with one hand keeping his head up, brought the glass to his lips and helped him drink in slow sips. Once the water was gone too, he put the empty glass on the bedside table and carefully used the rag to clean Nicky’s body, rubbing his spent and soft dick before passing it in the cleft of his ass. Their stomachs were still covered in dried come, but he couldn’t worry about everything, could he?

He threw the rag on the bedside table too, turned the lamp off, and laid beside Nicky.

Stroking his face, his thumb going over his still swollen lips, he asked: “Everything okay?”

“Yeah… just tired… thank you…” And then: “Can you get a blanket…?”

Blind, Joe reached for the folded blanket he had seen fall from the bed, and shook it out over their forms, making sure that Nicky was covered up to his chin. The soft chuckle he heard coming from him made him feel immediately lighter.

He fell asleep almost immediately, listening to the regular sound of Nicky’s breaths.

:i:

When he woke up, he was cold.

Eyes sticky and head spinning in exhaustion, Joe looked around for Nicky, but even in the darkness of his bedroom he could tell he was gone. He turned on the lamp just to make sure, but there was no trace of the brat. Of _fucking course_ there was no trace of the brat!

Joe threw himself onto his feet and immediately went for his phone; he had promised himself – and, secretly, to Nicky too – that he wouldn’t have _ever_ used the tracking app, but those were different circumstances. If that awful, _awful_ brat got injured or kidnapped or hurt or, god forbid, murdered, it would’ve been his fault too, and he would’ve had to go through the rest of his life knowing that his lack of attention had caused someone to be severely maimed. The guilt would’ve killed him too.

The app opened and showed that Nicky, a bright orange dot in a blue and purple map, was in a club downtown, reachable only with a twenty-minute car ride. Who the fuck was the person picking up Nicky, who didn’t have a driving license, was something he _absolutely_ had to discover, because it was just not possible that that horrible creature always had someone ready to follow his orders and bring him here and there.

Teeth gritting into his mouth, Joe kicked off his sweatpants and stomped into the closet to get a pair of jeans and a hoodie, feeling disgusted at himself for wearing clean clothes over a body that was still covered in dried come and sweat. He felt like he was vibrating out of his own skin, while he pushed his feet into socks and boots. As wrapped as he was by his rage and frustration, he almost forgot to get his keys and phone before leaving the room.

He had been stupid and those were the consequences of his own dumbness, he thought while slamming the car door and driving out of the garage, and for the entire drive to the club, one eye always pointed towards his phone screen, he couldn’t stop damning himself for having been so goddamn gullible. Nicky had always been very open about his goals, he had tried to seduce him mere seconds after he had been caught red-handed, what the fuck had made Joe think that that night would’ve been different?! An idiot, that was what he was, a massive idiot!

And getting a crush on him too?! How incredibly pathetic! Nicky was pretty and smart and knew his way around people, it was probably his boyfriend, the one who drove him around to go clubbing. He could see it, Nicky in the company of a suave looking man, the both of them laughing as the brat struggled to get out the story of how he had screwed with the brain of his bodyguard and, in the end, got what he wanted.

Around the wheel, his fingers tightened enough for his knuckles to become white.

The app beeped when he reached his destination, a low building with a purple neon sign and other lights of the same color swirling around it. His mood became even sourer; Nicky had chosen his plug based on the place where he would’ve partied. _Unbelievable_.

Outside the place there was a fairly short waiting line, all people around his and Nicky’s age dressed up to the nines, sporting collars, fishnets, boots, glitter, but since he didn’t have time to lose, once he gave them a look to make sure that _his_ brat wasn’t one of them, went directly for the bouncer and showed him his documents, Mister di Genova’s signature perfectly visible, and was let into the club immediately.

Inside, the air was so hot and smelling of body odor it was almost impossible to breathe. Purple and white lights were flashing from the ceiling and the dance floor was made of light-up tiles, and dozens of bodies were amassed one against the other, writhing at the pumping rhythm of the music whose volume was so loud Joe could feel it thrum in his chest cavity.

Sweat already pouring down his forehead and under his armpits, he began making his way through the dancing bodies to reach the bar. If he had to look through at least two hundred people it would’ve been better for his sanity if he did it at least after a drink; he was already suffocating and, if he didn’t have some alcohol in the next five minutes, he would’ve gone crazy for good.

By some miracle he managed to reach the bar before losing it, and found his way through the sea of people who seemed to cover almost every surface. Even there, propped on stools or hanging on the counter, they were forced to shout, in order to be able to hear each other.

How the fuck did Nicky do this shit multiple times a week?

He was about to order a whiskey on the rocks when, with the tail of his eye, he noticed a familiar little head of slicked back hair. Forgetting his thirst, he went for the man sipping on a cocktail and making conversation with someone _definitely_ older than him and, of course, said man was his Nicky. Perched on a stool, wearing different clothes than the ones he had been wearing when Joe had caught him and fucked him into, Nicky was sipping on a fruity drink with a little paper umbrella and was playing with the piece of fruit, maybe a slice of peach, in that shifting lights it was impossible to tell, that decorated the glass. The guy he was talking with, a mess of wrinkles who was clearly too old to be in a place like that, had a body language that suggested he was trying to flirt with Nicky. Joe didn’t like the way his gaze kept dropping onto Nicky’s glass.

Pushing the people around him, he was able to reach them and planted himself between Nicky and the old guy. Jaw tense and eyebrows furrowed, Joe stared down at him, ignoring the fact that the other dude was at least two inches taller than him, and shouted: “Can I help you?”

At first, the guy seemed surprised, but then gave him a sly smile that only widened when Nicky managed to peek from over Joe’s shoulder. Joe had to force himself to not turn around and hide the brat; the guy gave the idea of being a creep, someone you didn’t want to give your back to.

“Was just talking with dear Luca, that’s all,” the creep said, smiling like a wolf. “I was trying to invite him back to my place, have a couple of drinks, have a little fun…” he took a step forward and pressed himself against Joe, trying to impress him by making him feel his less-than-average hard dick. “Maybe you could join in on the fun too?”

At that Joe _exploded_ : he pushed the guy away by the shoulders, making him stumble backwards and fall on his ass, causing the people around them to either laugh or throw themselves at him to pick him up, but he was more worried about being grabbing Nicky’s hand and dragging him out of the club. Behind him, he could feel that Nicky was stumbling and trying to tell him something, but he completely ignored him: he wanted to get out of there _now_.

Once they were outside, the hot Cali night suddenly seemed a lot fresher and incredibly nice to breathe.

He dragged Nicky to the car, but instead of throwing open the passenger door and getting him to sit on the seat, Joe pushed him against the side of it and looked at him, managing to only get out an angry: “What the fuck were you thinking?!”.

Nicky rubbed his face, spreading his make-up everywhere – in fact, it looked like he hadn’t cleaned the first layer of the night off and had simply applied a second one over it, because Joe could see the tracks his tears had followed while they had been fucking. “I got here with my friend Andy, it’s her birthday.”

“How is that a valid-” the words died in Joe’s mouth when he noticed how sickly _green_ Nicky’s face looked. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked in a much calmer tone, suddenly worried.

The brat looked like he was about to answer when he gave a little nod and bent himself in half to throw up whatever he had eaten and drunk in the course of the night, coughs so hard Joe feared for a oment that his knees would’ve given out under his weight and he would’ve toppled into his won vomit.

It was in that moment of pure chaos that Joe realized that Nicky was still holding his half empty drink. Taking it from his clenched fingers, Joe sniffed it for a second, nostrils assaulted by a strong smell of peach vodka, before putting it beside one of the car wheels, and helping Nicky in his fight to stay upright, making sure his hair didn’t get in the way of his vomit. On the other side of the streets, the idiots waiting to be let in were loudly cheering. Joe showed them his middle finger.

Nicky coughed a few more times and then stood up straight again, moving sluggishly until his back rested against the car. He offered Joe one of his weak, shy smiles, but his eyes were filled with tears, and a lot of the capillary veins in them had exploded under the pressure. He looked like a mess, and the snot that was coming out of his nose wasn’t helping.

“You feel any better?” Joe asked gently, fishing a paper napkin from his pocket and using it to clean Nicky’s mouth and nose.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just…” he looked around, at first at his hands and then the ground, “can I have my drink back?”

The request, especially in that context, was so ridiculous Joe couldn’t stop himself from letting out a high-pitched laugh. Shit, he had just scrambled out of bed, there was dried come on his stomach making his skin itch, he had just shoved on the ground an old guy who had offered him to become part of a disgusting little threesome, and had held Nicky’s head as he threw up god knows how many ounces of alcohol, and here the brat was, with vomit still staining his chin, asking to have his drink back.

“Get in the car, you idiot,” Joe said, the tone affectionate regardless of the insult, and opened the car door and helped Nicky in, fastening his seatbelt for him too. “And if you need to barf again, you tell me and we stop immediately, okay?”

He didn’t shut the door until Nicky nodded, because even if he was cloud-eyed and clearly not all there, Joe now knew from experience that there was no situation in which his brain wasn’t working and absorbing concepts.

Thankfully, the drive back to the mansion was uneventful: Nicky’s stomach was still upset but he didn’t need to stop.

“I gotta call Andy…” he slurred as Joe parked the car by the pool, as close to the entrance as possible.

“I’ll do it for you as soon as we’re inside, don’t worry about it.”

Slowly, Joe helped the brat inside the house and then up the stairs, until they reached his bedroom. Once they were there, Nicky weakly signed that he wanted to go to the bathroom, so he assisted him in covering that little distance too.

Nicky hugged the toilet bowl, which he gripped with all of his strength to spit out some acid saliva. Joe puttered around for a while, spreading toothpaste on his toothbrush in case he asked for it and getting a towel wet to clean his face and give him a little relief.

Nicky kept his eyes closed as he dabbed the towel on his cheeks and eyes, pressing the wet part on his heated forehead. Then, as if he was his babysitter, Joe brushed his teeth for him too.

“There, spit,” he gently said, guiding his head towards the bowl again. Nicky spit out the foamy toothpaste and made some drool onto his chin; Joe cleaned away that too. “You want water?”

Before the brat could even answer, Joe had already retrieved the glass on the counter and filled it with sink water, bringing it to Nicky’s lips just like how he had done after they had fucked. He watched him take a few sips, making sure he swallowed them rather than getting the liquid into his lungs, and then sat beside him, with his back pressed against the wall, truly _exhausted_.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know?” Joe asked, not looking at him but at the corner of the ceiling.

Nicky slid his hand into his lap, and when Joe turned his head, he was giving him a soft smile. It was reassuring in an extremely weird way, especially because Nicky was resting his head against the toilet seat. “I do what I can”

Joe snorted. If _that_ was supposed to be reassuring!

“But I really like you, Joe. I didn’t have sex with you because I wanted to get out, it just… well, I _did_ want to get out, but then you caught me, and when I woke up you were sleeping so well I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.”

“That doesn’t really make it better, Nicky.”

“Yeah, well… I still like you.”

Joe smiled and dipped in to kiss his temple.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr:
> 
> [goldfishiescribbles.tumblr.com](https://goldfishiescribbles.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (still a bit empty and in the words. you can find the link of my personal blog in there too, but the last few months have been nothing but Italian shit posting and memes, so...)


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